


of our own device

by gayporwave



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Frottage, Ghost Sex, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayporwave/pseuds/gayporwave
Summary: John was his, completely molded by his own hands, perfection incarnate.





	of our own device

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomachia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/gifts).



> This takes place during episode 8 because that [scene](https://66.media.tumblr.com/ae5da5aafffd93b841d2261144f17daa/tumblr_ofzignx6rJ1u7d5vmo2_r1_500.gif) of James combing John's hair really sold me this ship.

James gently pat John’s hair, satisfied with his appearance after combing it back in place. A warm affectionate smile graced his lips as he looked at him. John was his, completely molded by his own hands, perfection incarnate. 

He hadn’t felt true genuine fear or worry in a long time, not since long before his death, not until moments ago. Seeing John hanging and desperately gasping for breath, noose wrapped around his neck, as that _wretch_ Sally just sat there and watched him die. What a waste of life and potential it would have been if John had died right then and there. Far too soon.

His other students weren’t nearly as perfect, none nearly as deserving of the honor to carry on his legacy. They had impressed him -- he wouldn’t invite them back to the Cortez every year if he had felt otherwise -- but no one was quite like John Lowe. None nearly as worthy or as successful as he knew John would be.

“Tell me,” he started to ask, tilting John’s head up so that their eyes met directly. Cold blue eyes stared back at him, the eyes of a newborn killer. “How did it feel? Give me all the gory details, don’t leave _anything_ out.”

John frowned, looking downward at his hands, as if they could absolve him of his guilt. “...There was nothing like it, taking that Oscar and smashing his skull in. Making him pay for what he’d done. I felt a rush, like nothing I’d ever felt before. Felt powerful, knowing I was taking care of society’s filth.” 

“A rush?” James raised a brow questioningly.

He already knew exactly what John meant, had felt the same addicting rush every time he’d taken a life, but he wanted to hear the other man say it out loud, to acknowledge it directly. John couldn’t truly become a master of his craft unless he shed this silly pretense of restraint, not until he fully embraced the darkness within and let go.

“Yeah. Better than drugs, better than sex. The satisfaction of knowing what I was doing was right, that I’m the only one who can do it,” John said quietly, still dazed, absently rubbing at the bruises on his neck.

“Yet you tried to take your own life. You enjoyed it, so why?” James prompted, intrigued by what reasoning John could provide. “Why restrain yourself? Why not embrace what you truly are?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back,” John whispered back, sounding pained.

“Then don’t,” James said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and leaned forward, his lips meeting John’s.

He knew now what both Sally and Elizabeth saw in John; his vulnerability paired with the anger and darkness inside him, a combination that pulled creatures like them in like moths to a flame. Not to mention that one would have to be blind to ignore the fact that he was quite handsome. 

John’s lips were surprisingly pliant against his and James brought up his hand to cup John’s face. His almost tender touch at odds with how much he wanted to claim the man in front of him.

“I’ve grown fond of you, John,” James said, pushing him down backwards onto the bed and straddling him. John, to his credit, seemed only mildly shocked, looking up at him questioningly. “Perhaps a little too fond.”

“A little too fond?”

“I wouldn’t want to distract you from your ambitions,” he explained, trailing his hand down John’s chest and admiring the musculature. To his delight, John seemed to melt at his touch, his eyes half-lidded as he laid back and watched James intently. 

“Your _whore_ , the junkie, doesn’t know what she’s dealing with. Only I understand: you, the thrill of the kill, the elation that comes afterward. She kills indiscriminately, while we have a purpose. A goal.” James followed the last word with a roll of his hips, drawing out a low moan from John.

“Shit,” John hissed, his own hips involuntarily bucking up to meet James’. “You get off on this? Killing people?”

“Don’t you?” James rolled his hips again, savoring the sensation of how hard John was already. “There’s nothing more exhilarating, more intoxicating.”

“Fuck,” John moaned, his hands scrambling for purchase on the bedsheets.

He had half a mind to stop right here, to push James off and leave, to go back home to his wife. But he’d already gone past the point of return, he’d killed a man and enjoyed it. Been fucking another woman. What reason did he have for refusing James now? He wanted this.

“Yes, I do believe that’s what we’re trying to achieve here,” James laughed and helped John shrug off his bathrobe, exposing him completely to the cool air of the room. John’s cock was proudly on display as he looked gloriously debauched, naked and panting, a ring of bruises around his neck like a macabre necklace.

“Christ,” John swore again. He felt warm over but also cold and exposed under James’ _hungry_ gaze. He wanted to reach out and touch James too, to make him as exposed as he was, but something stopped him and instead he opted to see what James would do next.

“Ah ah, no false gods here, John. Just the two of us,” James tutted.

Moving his hand up John’s thigh, James admired the expanse of unmarred pale flesh before him and watched John almost tremble at his touch. “You know, you’re important to me. More important than you know. Essential, even.”

With a flick of the wrist, his own pants and undergarments disappeared. One of the few perks of having a ghostly form.

James took both of their cocks in hand, their shafts pressed flush against each other, his fingers wrapping around the two of them, squeezing. A shudder ran through him, mirrored in John.

“I must confess it’s been a while,” James mused, slowly stroking the two of them. Thumbing at the head of John’s cock thoughtfully as he talked. “I haven’t ‘known’ another man since Exeter. But, one never does forget the motions, I suppose.”

He kissed John again. Instead of merely being passive and pliant, John kissed back, hard and unyielding. Tongue pressing against James’ lips as if seeking entrance, hot and heavy as they kissed. No sound in the room except their own heavy breathing as their cocks slid together. The two of them worked up an overwhelming desperate rhythm as they came closer to their orgasm.

James went taut, his back arching as his spilled into their hands. John followed not too long after, clinging to James he did. He wiped the two of them with a sheet from the bed. Ms. Evers would have to clean them later.

“Mm,” James hummed, running a hand through John’s dark locks as the other man was content to just sit there and take in what the two of them had just done. He leaned forward to plant a kiss on John’s forehead, using a thumb to wipe away some of the sweat off his brow. “Once the two of us clean up, I want to show you something. I think you’re finally ready to see it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely ecstatic to see someone requesting these two for Smutswap, with such a lovely prompt too! Hotel is my absolute favorite season of the series and I love the fucked up relationship between these two a lot. In a just world John managed to die within the Cortez boundary and they have kinky ghost sex everywhere lol
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic!


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